


stop the rain

by CHAN4SUNG



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Verbal Abuse, i was shaking while writing this, raw 3am emo thoughts, this is the author projecting, yes im scared of the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHAN4SUNG/pseuds/CHAN4SUNG
Summary: jisung is scared of the rain.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin
Kudos: 97





	stop the rain

**Author's Note:**

> mentioned in the tags, but mentioning this here as well. this work contains past child abuse, specifically verbal and emotional abuse. please be mindful of that.

Jisung didn’t realise it until he moved out. He had been alone for a week, and was doing well—or at least, better than he thought he would’ve done. Moving out was one of the most nerve-wracking moments in his life; though he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if he could survive alone.

Not surviving meant proving them right.

That was the last thing he wanted.

But he was fine, being able to run errands on his own despite never having done so before, and do the chores that he’d become accustomed to doing. Everything was smooth sailing, and for once he felt like his life was falling into place. He felt like a sailor who’d survived a shipwreck, and was finally seeing a glimpse of land after days on unforgiving sea. He felt like he could breathe, after having his chest restricted for longer than he could remember.

One day, while clicking through the channels on his TV trying to find something interesting to watch, he decided to check the weather forecast for the day on his phone. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, except it would be the first time he’d be seeing rain on this new apartment’s window. He didn’t think much of it. He had no errands to run that day.

The first few drops of rain fell earlier than he expected. The pitter-patter on the roof was peaceful and familiar, yet Jisung couldn’t help but feel uneasy in that moment—like there was something bigger to come. Like this was the beginning of something horrible. But again, he didn’t think much of it. _‘Must be because it’s cold,’_ he thought, and he continued watching the drama now playing on his television screen.

The rain grew louder, starting to pour from the clouds more violently. It didn’t help that it was night time, and the sky was pitch black, the sight scaring Jisung, making it feel like he was being blanketed in darkness. Droplets shot at the windows like bullets, never stopping, never showing mercy.

And then the thunder. The _thunder_. It was as startling as it was menacing, shaking Jisung’s very core every time it made an unwelcome appearance. The cold air didn’t help the shivers Jisung was having.

Jisung hugged his knees close to his chest, shaking violently like a drunk person trying to hold in their vomit. As the thunder continuously shook the ground, Jisung found himself growing more frightened, his brain going into overdrive. He didn’t have any time to register the thoughts racing through his mind. All he knew was he was suddenly hearing voices again, hearing _their_ voices, and he didn’t know what they were saying but he knew it wasn’t good, because nothing they said was ever good, so why would this be any different, right?

It was all too much. He felt so overwhelmed, so out of breath even though he hadn’t been moving all that much.

He shut his eyes tight when lightning flooded in through his windows, hiding his face in his arms. He stayed like that for a few moments before he let himself cry, his shoulders heaving with every shaky sob he let out.

As far as he knew, it started with his fear of the dark. That was something he remembered vividly, one of the memories that he wanted to repress but couldn’t. He knew all too well how the fear began, how it only became worse to the point where he couldn’t even look at a dark room without horrifying thoughts intruding his mind.

He was eleven years old.

That was something that even Jisung himself found hard to believe. He’d understand why someone would do such a thing to _him_ , he was sure he deserved it—but an eleven-year-old? Couldn’t have waited a few more years, is that it? What kind of child was put under that sort of treatment?

Well, him.

He didn’t remember what he did. This was a reoccurring theme with most of these incidents—he’d never remember what he did wrong, but he’d always remember the consequences of it.

All he remembers is being grabbed by the collar by his own mother, then pushed into his bathroom, his knees hitting the cold, hard ground. When he turned around, the door was closed. A second later, the lights were turned off.

Maybe it’s because he was young, maybe it’s because he believed in ghosts. Whatever the reason was, Jisung was startled. The windowless room didn’t allow a single bit of light, and he was stuck in pitch black with nowhere to go. It horrified him. The fact that his eyes were open but he couldn’t _see_ , he couldn’t know what was going on around him.

Eleven-year-old Jisung did what every other kid would’ve done in that situation. He stumbled towards the door, hitting his elbow on something on the way there, and banged his fists on the wood.

“Mum!” He yelled with all his might. “Mumma! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He didn’t even have half a mind to ask her to let him out. Maybe then she would’ve. Maybe then he wouldn’t have had to wait five minutes, his legs giving way as his knees sunk to the ground, quiet sobs slowly filling the darkness.

She didn’t say anything when she opened the door. Just looked at Jisung as he apologised over and over, though he didn’t even know what he was apologising for.

It happened again. Again. And again. Every time he acted like a child, he was punished in that way. Every time an eleven-year-old acted like an eleven-year-old, he was sent into the one place he feared the most, slowly becoming scarred for life. Sometimes, she’d yell at him through the door, not stopping even after he started crying out in fear. Calling him “deranged”, “a monster”, “useless”, all sorts of things a child didn’t deserve to hear. It went through his right ear and instead of escaping through his left, the words printed themselves in his brain, until they were the only words he knew he could describe himself with.

And then came the rain. This one is a lot easier to explain once one knows why Jisung is afraid of the dark.

Rain meant darkness. Rain meant that Jisung’s house—which was very poorly maintained—would have its electricity shut off. Rain meant that Jisung would be trembling in fear, holding in his cries, choking out strangled sobs, because he knew the second his mother heard him crying, she would call him those names again. Sometimes, he did cry. Sometimes, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you, a fucking toddler?” He can still hear that voice clearly in his head. “Stop crying. You don’t have the right to cry, you demented child.”

Hyunjin was the first of Jisung’s friends to notice it. They had been out with a few other friends—Changbin and Seungmin—gobbling down fries and drinking so much soda that Jisung was sure his teeth were rotting with every second that passed.

“By the way,” Seungmin said, “question five for biology… The answer isn’t in the power point.”

“I Googled it,” Changbin shrugged.

“Don’t be shy, share with the class,” Hyunjin said.

“Why don’t you lazy motherfuckers search it up yourselves?”

“Don’t wanna.” Seungmin stole another of Changbin’s fries. “Just wanna look at yours.”

Changbin brought his hands up to do a flower pose. “Wanna look at me? Seungminnie wants to look at me?”

“Your fucking _answers_ , dumbass.” Seungmin held back a laugh, pushing Changbin’s face away.

Jisung snorted at his friends’ antics, but his happiness was cut short when he heard a rumble. _Thunder_. “Huh,” Changbin proceeded to state the obvious. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Hyunjin glanced over at Jisung, who was seated next to him. Something about Jisung’s raised shoulders and the way his arms wrapped around his chest seemed… odd. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Jisung didn’t even realise that his body had taken a defensive stance. He quickly let his weapons down, throwing off his armour. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… startled.” He shrugged, trying his best to sound convincing, and shoved another fry in his mouth.

That didn’t convince Hyunjin, though.

Jisung should’ve known then that Hyunjin knew him all too well.

That brings us to this specific moment, another thunderstorm that Jisung could barely survive through. He was trying his hardest to hold himself together, to make sure the broken pieces of him weren’t scattered all over the wooden floor.

He thought of calling up one of his friends to help him through this. He swears that the thought had crossed his mind. But he couldn’t. Because that would mean he’s giving in. That would mean that he’ll have to admit that he’s weak, that there’s some things that he can’t face alone. _That would mean they were right_.

But at the same time, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this any longer.

So he did what every sane person would do. Or not.

He called up his ex-boyfriend.

After what seemed like forever, with Jisung chanting _‘please pick up’_ , the call was finally answered. “Hello?” The boy on the other end said, voice groggy and tired. Jisung glanced at the clock—he could barely register the numbers. _11 P.M_. ‘Well, shit,’ he thought. “Who’s this?” Jisung didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He felt like there was a cloud blocking his throat, like his voice had been robbed from him. When he did open his mouth, all that came out was a squeak. If Jisung wasn’t completely horrified, he would’ve died of embarrassment then.

“Hey, are you okay?” The other male asked, his voice becoming much softer—or as soft as someone’s morning voice could sound.

Jisung stammered for a while until he could finally say one word without his voice breaking. _“Hyunjin.”_

“Jisung?” The mentioned boy heard something on the other end, like Hyunjin had gotten up abruptly, kicking his blankets off of himself. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“It—” Jisung held back a sob and cleared his throat loudly. “It—it’s raining a-and I’m—I’m so scared—I don’t kn-know—I c-can’t do this—”

Hyunjin spoke in the kindest, warmest voice he could manage. “Woah, woah, easy. I’m gonna need you to calm down, okay? Can you tell me what’s wrong, Sungie?” _Sungie_. The nickname felt familiar. Gentle. Kind. It calmed Jisung down a little bit. “Is it dark there?”

“N-no, it’s n-not dark, but I—I’m so s-scared, Hyunjin, th-the thunder is so s-scary,” he sobbed.

“Okay, take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me, Sungie?” When Jisung replied with an _‘okay’_ , Hyunjin continued, “Okay then. Follow me, yeah? Breathe in… hold… breathe out. Focus on my breathing.”

Jisung obliged, following Hyunjin’s deep breathing for a while, until he could speak a little more clearly. “Okay, I think… I th-think I’m okay now.”

“Okay, good. Can you tell me what happened?” Hyunjin asked.

Jisung took a deep breath. “You remember my—my parents, right?” Jisung sighed.

“Yeah. What about them?”

“Every time it rains… I—I think of them.” Jisung tried to explain. “Like, I don’t—it’s not that I—I don’t… do it… on purpose. When it rains, it reminds me of them.”

“But you know that they can’t hurt you anymore, right?” Hyunjin asked, and when he got no answer, he continued. “I don’t know how this trauma thing works, but… no matter what, you’re still living your own life at the end of the day. You get what I mean? They’re not part of your life anymore. They can’t touch you. Can’t speak to you. They can’t hurt you.”

“But… It still feels like they can.” Jisung sighed again. “I don’t know, I’m just—I’m so scared.”

Hyunjin was silent for a while. Then, “It’s okay to be scared. It’s normal. But don’t… or at least, know that it can’t control you. Whatever you’re scared of is just like a ghost. It’s okay to be scared of it, but it can’t touch you. It’s in a different world. You’re in your own. You can’t be hurt anymore.”

“Okay.” Jisung snorted at what he said next. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“It’s not fake. Trust me when I say that.” They went silent for a while, both of them not knowing what to say next. “What’re you doing now? You want a distraction?”

“ _Please_ ,” Jisung’s tone practically begged for one. “I’m so fucking tired man, but I can’t sleep for shit.”

Hyunjin smiled. “Okay. Wanna hear a new song I’m working on?”

“Won’t your roommate murder you for playing the piano this late?”

“Felix? Man is out doing God-knows-what with Chan and Minho. He’s _voluntarily_ being a third-wheel, can you _believe_?” That made Jisung laugh a little. He heard Hyunjin get up and sit down on his desk, placing the phone down. “Okay, I don’t have a title for this one yet, but fuck it, am I right?”

“Just play it, loser.”

Jisung stayed like that for a while. His head resting on his pillow while his phone was next to his face on speaker, arm hugging the Cinnamoroll plush Hyunjin got him close to his chest. He listened to Hyunjin play song after song, his eyes closed. The dried tears on his cheeks felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t mind it. Not when Hyunjin was there with him. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe. And he wondered, maybe this was all he needed after all. Hyunjin, who knew him better than anyone else, to stay by him. Maybe they’ll never go back to how they were before, but at least they still had each other—and that was enough for Jisung.

Slowly, the rain came to a stop.

**Author's Note:**

> yes. what better way to write than to vent out your feelings. haha. perfect.  
> come yell at my face if you so desire: [twitter](https://twitter.com/bfhyunsung) / [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/CHAN4SUNG)


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